


In which Agatha is out of sorts

by Overlord_Bethany



Series: blundering onward [23]
Category: Girl Genius (Webcomic)
Genre: Multi, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-09
Updated: 2018-03-09
Packaged: 2019-03-28 21:55:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13912962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Overlord_Bethany/pseuds/Overlord_Bethany
Summary: She may go a bit grumbly about it.





	In which Agatha is out of sorts

Agatha lingered in the doorway, just out of sight of her two consorts, not quite spying… Well, yes, she was spying. She had meant to enter the room, but the sight of them had stopped her. Gil sat with a book open on his knee, and Tarvek perched on the arm of his overstuffed chair. As she watched, they kissed, a slow, languorous kiss that she imagined she could almost taste. How beautiful they were, and they were  _hers_. 

She left them to their intimate moment, their casual caresses and their lazy kisses. Let them love each other until the world burned around them. They needed it. Neither of them had any impetus without love. 

The two of them had not fought in weeks, she realized, and Gil’s insecurities seemed quieter than usual. The novelty of their betrothal would wear off. Before much longer, everything would return to normal. Farther down the stairwell, she saw two of the cultists working. With a little help from the Castle, she avoided their notice. Well. Whatever passed for normal around here. 

The third cultist caught up to her in the corridor outside the library. Alina skidded to a halt and bowed as low as her armload of little clanks would allow. “Your Radiance, Herr von Zinzer requires assistance with the caterpillars!”

_I bet he does_. That’s what she should have said, but Agatha found her thoughts stuck at the first part of the sentence. She made a face. “Don’t call me that.”

Alina wilted a little, but she only rearranged her phrasing. “Divine light shines upon you, My Lady.” Alina was the cheeky one. 

_I’m not what you think I am_ , Agatha wanted to snap at her. Instead, she ground her teeth together into a forced smile, and she remembered what Vanamonde had said about the cultists: there’s no harm in them. “Please tell Herr von Zinzer that I’ll be along shortly.” Or not. Whichever. 

Alina dipped her another awkward bow, then raced away. Watching her retreat, Agatha sighed at herself. She really should learn to accept it. Every Spark craved adulation. Why should she deny it?

Her lip curled in revulsion at the obvious answer. 

She headed to the conservatory to sort out her Chief Minion’s caterpillar problem. They only spat a little acid this time, which was a nice change. Von Zinzer railed for their extermination, as usual, which Agatha firmly refused. Balanced ecosystem, she said. Very important. 

They corralled the fuzzy upstarts, again, von Zinzer grumbling all the while. Agatha had stopped listening a long time ago. Her fingertips caressed leaves and tendrils, and the plants shifted in response to her, each a lovely abomination of science, each rustling a little with the movement, a susurration like whispers, like calling her name, like the rushing of water. 

Oh. 

Oh, perhaps it truly had been too long. Perhaps she should…

_No_ , Agatha told herself firmly. She told herself that she wasn’t that person, that she did not seek power just for the sake of having it. Still, when she had finished in the conservatory, she descended to the Great Movement Chamber. 

“My parents raised me better than this,” she complained as she stripped off her boots and socks and dipped her toes into the swirling waters of the Dyne. 

The river welcomed her back. It soothed her skin with a cool caress, tingling almost like electricity. The air fairly vibrated in response to it, and the waterwheel creaked a soothing rhythm.  _Here, anxieties are meaningless_ , the Dyne seemed to tell her.  _Here, you are truly home._

Utter twaddle, Agatha chided her own thoughts. The river could not be more home to her than the rest of Mechanicsburg, no matter the memories already connected to this place. She thought of that long-ago day, of the power of the Dyne filling her, flooding her, saving all three of them. 

All three of them. 

Frowning, Agatha lifted her feet from the water. She kicked showers of glittering droplets across the surface of the river just to watch them fall. Had she missed something all along? The air cooled her damp skin, sharpening her thoughts. She sighed. 

“Did I make Gil and Tarvek fall in love with each other?”

The laugh startled her, and for just one fanciful moment, she thought the river itself answered her. 

“You’re powerful, Mistress,” said Castle Heterodyne, “but not  _that_ powerful.”

“How would you know, you old heap of bricks?” Agatha felt a bit spiky about the interruption, though she always knew the perils of thinking aloud. “You were dead at the time.”

The Castle chuckled and made those small, almost musical sounds it favored when it gloated about having a secret. Agatha felt her patience fading. 

“What are you so smug about?”

The Castle immediately fell silent. It wanted her to threaten it, or perhaps play guessing games. Agatha was in no mood to humor it. Instead, she returned her attention to the Dyne. She tapped her toes against the surface of the water, creating the smallest of splashes. The river fairly sang in response to her. 

She waited. 

Fewer than five minutes passed before Castle Heterodyne grew bored. “You cannot have caused an affection to grow between your two consorts,” it said, “because they already loved each other when I first met them.”

That didn’t sound right. “But all that fighting…” Then she remembered how Gil had volunteered himself for the  _si vales valeo_ procedure, and her argument faltered. He hadn’t risked himself to save Tarvek to satisfy his own heroic nature, and he hadn’t done it out of some wooden headed attempt to impress her. Gil was a great biologist. He knew that a  _si vales valeo_ tied his own fate to the other participant’s, at least for the duration of the procedure. He had chosen Tarvek over his own interests, his own safety. 

He had done so without hesitation. 

“Foreplay,” said Castle Heterodyne, unhelpful and smug. 

Agatha got up and threw a boot at the great water wheel. It bounced harmlessly away, but it was the closest she could manage to smacking her Castle right now. “Gil had no idea.” She picked up her socks and her remaining boot. She didn’t want to cover her feet yet anyway. 

“No…” The Castle drew the word out, enjoying it. “Not at the time. But the other one did.”

Agatha thought of Tarvek’s frank astonishment when he had seen Gil strapped to the table beside him. She thought of the softness of his voice when he confessed secrets of their shared childhood to her. Yes, that rang true. Oblivious Gil and bitterly pining Tarvek. She ached with love for them both. And it warmed her to think of them married to each other, bound to her…

“Castle,” she said, “how quickly can you get me to the library?”

She should know better than to ask. Clutching her boot and her socks to her chest, she only just kept her footing on the column of stone that rushed upward. The ceiling parted at the last moment, and she imagined she heard Olga squeak in surprise as she zoomed past. When the Castle had deposited her at the correct level, the floor slid sideways, hastening her onward. 

“I can never just ask a question with you.”

The massive library doors swung open before her. “As my Mistress requires,” the Castle said with a chuckle. 

Agatha strode past the life-sized bust of Franz. “Get that thing out of my library.” 

The Castle made a noise that may have implied pouting, but it complied. 

Most of the time, she visited the library for science, or inspiration, or sometimes diversion. Today she tore apart the history shelves in search of what she needed. A scrap here, a thread there, and soon she sat covered in dust, surrounded by tottering towers of books. 

She knew so little about the previous harem marriages. Sure, she had read the law itself, several times, once with Vanamonde present to answer any questions, but she didn’t need the law. She needed to know about the people. Who were they? How had they lived? She scoured the pages, drinking in the scraps she found. 

The hours slid away from her. The Castle left her to her research, not commenting on the mess she made. She would not have heard anyway. She never noticed when the door opened. She read on through the approach of footsteps. She ignored the adoring smiles and happy sighs until her consorts settled down on either side of her. 

Agatha lowered her latest book. She could have said something sharp to them for interrupting her, but it felt as though their bubble of bliss absorbed her as well. She glanced around, and the world slowly came back into focus. 

“Castle told us where to find you,” Gil blurted, failing to offer any manner of greeting first. Agatha could not help but grin. 

“We missed you,” Tarvek added, softer, gentler, but not hiding his curiosity toward the heaps of history books. 

With a noise of frustration, Agatha kicked a few volumes away. The stack toppled over, sending up a fresh billow of dust. These books all focused on the Heterodyne. Consorts warranted footnotes, or a few paragraphs at best. It wasn’t enough. 

These two deserved better. 

“Agatha…?” Gil eyed her with undisguised concern. 

Tarvek reached for one of the fallen volumes, flipped through the long-neglected pages. “These look to have been kept for vanity. Most Heterodynes probably just ask the Castle or the Jägers about the past.”

But Agatha wasn’t sure how to phrase her questions. “Probably.” She tilted to the side, allowing her head to fall onto Gil’s shoulder. He felt solid. Real. The warm scent of him pulled her the rest of the way out of her books. “I’m surprised the two of you found time to miss me.” The words came out a little sharper than she intended. What…? Was this jealousy?

She felt Gil look across her, toward Tarvek, and a vicious little part off her hoped he felt guilty. Why? She liked that her two consorts were so desperately in love with each other. She liked the way they touched, the way they gazed at one another. Their happiness filled her with warmth, with satisfaction, with a fierce burst of possessiveness. 

“Agatha,” Tarvek said, his voice quiet, too serious, “have we been neglecting you?”

“Of course not. I just…” 

Tarvek gave her a stony stare. “We’ve done something to make you feel excluded.”

“No, it's…” The whole city celebrating the betrothal. The endless stream of well-wishing for the pair of them. The surprise gifts that turned up every few days. “That's… not…” Agatha’s eyes narrowed. The old Heterodynes must have had ways to make themselves the center of the celebration. They never would have endured it otherwise. 

Agatha hated admitting that she felt the same impulse. 

Tarvek took her hand, interlaced their fingers, and looked a question into her eyes. She sighed. 

“Am I like my ancestors?” The question escaped her before she could stop it, and Tarvek replied without hesitation. 

“Absolutely. But only the best parts.” He gave her hand a squeeze. “But you are also something completely new, something uniquely  _Agatha_. I would not be here if you were anything else.”

“You’re telling me you wouldn’t stay just so the two of you could get married?” she teased, but maybe a small part of her craved reassurance. She glared at the books. They had done more harm than help. 

Gil jostled her with the force of his scoffing. “Without you, this wouldn’t work at all.”

“No,” Tarvek agreed, a hint of sadness flickering across his face at the thought. Agatha imagined the two of them spending a lifetime apart because they could not manage to reconcile their love. The thought hurt too much. She wrapped an arm around each of them and squeezed. 

“My beloved idiots.” Somehow, that felt better. Holding them tightly and scolding them fondly. “I guess I’ll just have to keep you forever.”

Her consorts agreed with enthusiasm, without hesitation. Agatha felt the tension melt out of her shoulders. An urgency still tickled the edges of her thoughts, a need to know about the consorts from long ago, but Tarvek was right. She would never know them from a book. Her Jägers would tell her, and then she would know how to…

“I want to honor your predecessors,” she said. “The consorts.” The footnotes in her books. She looked to Tarvek, and he gave a slow nod. Tarvek always understood these matters. 

Gil surprised her by wrapping both arms around her and pressing his head against hers. “Let me help.”

“Me, too,” said Tarvek. “Obviously.”

Obviously. Warmth overtook Agatha, and for a dizzying moment she allowed herself to sit between these two men, doing nothing more important than wallowing in a truly suffocating amount of love. “We can do it together,” she said. “The three of us.”

As it should be. Always.


End file.
